Grades
by aCupofJo
Summary: What starts out as a bet for a grade turns into something much more rewarding. Contains language, one nice Pezberry friendship w/ a dash of Kurt, and Faberry smut. Teacher/Student Faberry Week prompt.


**Grades**

* * *

"Jesus, Rachel," Santana snaps. She flips through the notebook of class notes, where every line is filled and there's extra reminders dotting the margins. The very paper is beginning to crinkle inward with how fast and hard Rachel had been writing. "How the hell am I supposed to study if I can't understand a damn word you wrote?"

"Please," Rachel says exaggeratedly, sipping her soy Christmas-spice latte. "I have perfectly articulate handwriting."

"Bull," the Latina counters, leaning forward and squinting. "It's so freaking _small_."

"There you two are," Kurt says, appearing at their table. He pulls a chair out to collapse into, looks up at Rachel and Santana, and says with excitement lining his voice, "When do you two have Literature?"

"Next," Rachel provides after a glance to Santana proves she's too busy deciphering notes to bother with Kurt's question. Her red lips move slightly as she reads, eyes still squinted, and when her fingers start to fidget with the right top corner of the pages, Rachel reaches over and swats them away.

"You guys are in for a treat," Kurt continues, unraveling his scarf and cautiously touching up his hair to assure the snow hasn't disrupted it. It wasn't a far walk off campus to the small and cozy coffee shop they often frequented and it had begun to snow on his way over from his second to last class of the day. "The new professor is _gorgeous_."

At this, both Santana and Rachel, who had leaned over to determine if her writing really was that hard to read, look up. Kurt complimenting women with that emphasis must mean that their new professor was actually a model. Forgetting the notes, Santana crosses her arms in front of her and leans over, a sly smile coming to her lips.

"Really? What's she like?"

While Santana may be a bit more upfront about her sexuality and just how interested she is in women, Rachel has only recently adjusted to her newfound interest. Though she is intrigued by this new, super-model professor, she just keeps a small smile for now and is content with listening to their conversation.

"A woman right out of a strict Catholic private school," Kurt begins. He glances at the queue to order coffee and deciding it's too long for the moment, continues, "or a fantasy. You guys are seriously just going to have to see for yourself and take some gracious notes because I sat there the entire time admiring her jaw line and wondering where she gets her hair done." Pausing once he realizes that there is, in fact, one professor and two interested students, he points between the two of them as he stands, "You two play nice. I don't need high school drama about who gets the sleep with the teacher."

"Please," Santana scoffs, sitting back in her chair. "I could have her if I want."

"So you think," Rachel says beneath her breath, shocking both herself and Santana. Twisting to face Rachel a little as Kurt leaves to order himself something to drink, she gives a cheeky smile.

"Berry got game?" She challenges, poking Rachel in the side.

"You don't know what I have," Rachel says defiantly. On a second thought, she grabs her notebook from in front of Santana and goes to put it away.

"No, wait, Rache," Santana objects, reaching around Rachel for the notebook she desperately needs for study. "I need those! You can have the teacher, I need to get my grade up in that class!"

"Oh, really?" Rachel says, right arm barring against Santana as she holds the notebook out of reach with her left. "I can have the teacher, you say?"

"Yes, fuck her, I can't have C minus!" Santana spits out, slapping at Rachel's outstretched arm to get her to hand the notes back over.

With a roll of her eyes and an exaggerated sigh, Rachel hands over the notebook and takes her coffee cup instead. She takes another drink, watching Santana sidelong as the darker girl opens back up to where she was before. She starts leaning away, however, holding the notebook close to her chest, and a sly smirk returns to her face.

"_Suck_er," she mutters just loud enough, and when Rachel lunges out to snatch the notes away again, Santana is the one who holds them away. With the arm between them, Santana holds up her index finger, "Ah, ah, _a_-ah! Now let's be real, Rachel. I can get in a girl's pants, no problem." She pauses, expecting a reaction from Rachel. When Rachel huffs in defeat and nods, sitting back in her seat but still posed to jump for her notebook, Santana lowers her hand carefully and continues, "Now, I have no doubt you got game. I mean, dress right and like you have since we came to New York and you've got some legs to die for, not mention when you do your smoky eyeshadow and eye-fuck me across the classroom to distract me… well. But I have a proposition for you—"

Kurt returns. He walks past Santana with his coffee and grabs the notebook unsuspectingly, tossing it overhead for Rachel to catch. Rachel snatches it out of the air before Santana can comprehend what just happened and turns to tuck it away in her bag with a grin. Behind her, Santana throws a dirty glare Kurt's way as he sits with an uncaring shrug, and crosses her arms, inspecting her nails.

"Fine, I'll fail the class," Santana starts, her tone lofty but foreshadowing, "but I'll fuck the teacher."

"What is your proposition?" Rachel interrupts, turning back around, slightly peeved. There's no denial that Rachel does feel threatened by Santana's sexual prowess, as everything she said before was true, but her best friend can't even give her a chance to see if this professor is worth pursuing before she calls dibs.

Now that Rachel is willing and listening, Santana drops the attitude and sits forward. Ignoring the slightly bored and only mildly confused looks from Kurt, she looks at Rachel.

"First off, agree I could have the new professor if I so much as looked at her right and happened to be wearing the right top," Santana says loosely, gesturing at her current blouse which displayed her ample cleavage. Kurt rolls his eyes hard enough to be practically heard. With a short sigh through her nose, Rachel nods, tightlipped. "Good. Now, this should be easy enough, provided she likes little, tiny Jewish girls who write novels as notes—"

"_Santana,_" Rachel warns, seeing that this is going nowhere. Santana's finger is suddenly pressed against her lips, silencing her.

"Listen," Santana starts again, taking her finger away. "As I was _saying_… if you can guarantee I get an A for the semester, and nothing less, I will let you have the new professor. I will seriously sit beside you like I am mental and mute because it would take that much to counter this much sexy."

Kurt mutters something beneath his breath sarcastically and flips a page of the Vogue magazine he pulled out of his messenger bag. Both girls ignore that as well.

"How can I assure you get an A?" Rachel asks. This seems plausible and the idea of having a clear chance without any interference on Santana's part… actually excites her as well as giving her a nervous roll in her stomach.

"If you actually get to fucking the teacher, and you're _good_ at it," Santana says, looking over Rachel as if to size up her sexual abilities, "then she'll be willing to do anything, especially as something as trivial as a student's grade."

"How is that trivial?" Rachel asks, smirking at the small loophole.

"Rachel, pay attention," Santana averts, snapping her fingers in front of the other's face like she hadn't been focusing. "And if you fail, then come semester finals, you will take the test like it's yours but it will be _my_ name at the top."

Rachel tries to go over the pros and cons of this plan, worrying for just a moment about getting caught cheating on their finals no less… but just looking at Kurt casually reading his articles and hearing just how enthused he was about their professor decides for her. With a slow nod that works to one that suits Santana, she can't help smiling when she's given a quick, strong hug.

This new professor better be _damn_ well worth all this, or Rachel's just gotten herself into a lose-lose situation. Only twenty minutes until she finds out.

* * *

Santana stumbles. Actually _trips_.

"Holy shit," she whispers beside Rachel, who's too busy remembering how to close her mouth.

_Ms. Fabray_ is written in elegant cursive handwriting on the blackboard behind the stunning blonde professor at the large, mahogany desk. As Rachel and Santana make their way to seats in the center of the small stadium seating, they, like most of the students in the room, stare at their new professor.

Their previous professor, an elderly, droning man that made Santana fall asleep in the first five minutes of class and is the reason why her grade is suffering, had been moved to a new department over the weekend, after a two week's notice to the students. His farewell gift was an essay over _The Sound and The Fury_, and what impact it made on literature today.

Ms. Fabray was a fresh sight for a Monday afternoon. And Kurt wasn't kidding. Short, golden-blonde hair framed a defined jaw. She was dressed in very uniform, form-fitting clothing; a white Oxford blouse and black blazer that only allowed subtle cleavage. Rounded square glasses sit down on a perfect nose as the woman sits, straight-backed, and writes across a sheaf of paper until the bell rings for class to begin and everyone seats themselves.

"You better fucking get me that A," Santana harshly whispers, leaning closer to Rachel for just a moment before sitting back in her seat, grumbling.

Putting her pen down, Ms. Fabray stands. She takes her glasses and throws them lightly across the papers on her desk, moving around the front to lean back against. It shouldn't be that arousing but somehow just her half-sitting on the edge of her desk makes Rachel's mouth water. She looks up then, scanning her new class.

Hazel. Rachel's heart stutters as she realizes that Ms. Fabray's striking hazel eyes linger on her longer than she had been on the rest of the students. So much for Santana being able to attract a woman's attention. Rachel had only been sitting there and Ms. Fabray noticed her, and hopefully for the better. She didn't have like, pen ink on her cheek, did she?

"Afternoon," Ms. Fabray speaks. Rachel feels a flutter in chest something akin to melting as that voice floats through the room, a smooth, singer's voice. She would know. She's only at Columbia University because Kurt persuaded her into believing she needs more experience before NYADA, or, it was just the next best college he could get into and wanted her there with him. She may be taking a literature class but the rest of her schedule is filled with courses that will help her prepare for the hard life of making a famous name for herself. "My name is Quinn Fabray, I am your new Literature professor. You should all be aware by now why Dr. Callaway is no longer your professor, from the looks of these half-attempted essays…"

Santana snickers. Rachel glances sideways at the darker-haired girl as she sketches crass figures in her notebook, another reason why she's struggling. It could also be because she's trying to stay to her word and not leer at the curves of Ms. Fabray's hips through her tight pencil skirt.

"Anyways, I some of you must have questions, so before we begin, is there anything you'd like to know?"

Oh, that's just an open invitation.

Of course, one guy, a boisterous frat brother, raises his hand. Rachel catches the momentary eye perk of skepticism and smirks as Ms. Fabray gestures for him to speak.

"How old are you?" he drawls, sniggering at a fellow brother beside him.

Ms. Fabray chuckles, looking to the floor almost like she expected that sort of question. "23."

Someone wolf-whistles. A few more questions are asked, nearing the border of sexual harassment, until Ms. Fabray calls off the rest of the questions with a sarcastic demeanor. Advising notes and picking up the new work of literature they would finish the semester with, Rachel spends the rest of the class valiantly trying to focus.

And failing.

* * *

A week passes and Rachel knows Ms. Fabray is game. Once after class, they had to turn in reports they were to have done during class. Rachel made it so that she was the last one in line before leaving, but unfortunately, the same frat guy from before thought the same thing. He handed over his report, then with a cocky grin over his shoulder at Rachel, who wanted nothing more than to smack him, delayed at the desk. He leaned his hands against it and said something low enough for just Ms. Fabray to hear. The blonde gave another sharp, sarcastic chuckle, raised a perfect brow, and picked up her glasses, nearly throwing it over her nose before turning to the papers. Her reaction must have had the negative response the frat wasn't hoping for because he pushed off the desk brusquely and shouldered past Rachel.

Stepping up to the desk, Rachel offered her paper for Ms. Fabray to take. She looked up from her work to give a small smile and when she reached for the paper, her middle finger grazed Rachel's before she had a hold. Unintentionally, Rachel's bottom lip disappeared momentarily between her teeth, and Ms. Fabray saw it. She glanced down, the slightest of pink coming to her cheeks, before she looked back up through her lashes.

"You have really great work, Ms. Berry," Ms. Fabray said gently. She hadn't even asked for Rachel's name, let alone her last name. Rachel gave a timid smile and thanked her. On a whim, she held the eye contact for a little longer, prompting her professor to continue watching, and then turned. She could feel Ms. Fabray's eyes on her back as she made the little extra effort to swing her hips as she sauntered out, a criminal-like smile on her lips.

Another time had Santana's stamp of approval. Ms. Fabray was patrolling the aisles of students, giving bits of advice and information through their coursework. Just a row in front of them, Ms. Fabray came to bend forward in front of a student's desk. Rachel glanced up from her papers to realize with a jolt straight to the pit of her stomach that she could see down the front of Ms. Fabray's blouse, as well as Santana, who looked up at Rachel for a question and saw the very distracted expression on her. Rachel managed to move her eyes away, only to look straight into Ms. Fabray's mesmerizing hazel as they peered over the top of her glasses at her. Realizing that she had been caught inappropriately staring as well, Rachel squirmed in her seat and set back to writing random words on her paper. Her train of thought was lost. Once Ms. Fabray moved to the next student, Santana kicked Rachel in the shin and mouthed, "_Nice rack!_" with a subtle thumbs up. Rachel rolled her eyes, but for the rest of class, she only wrote three more sentences before all she could think about was that damn shirt with two too many buttons undone, and how she'd like to undo the rest of them.

Now, the ball was in her court. Looking up from her book she was skimming through, Rachel looks to Ms. Fabray's desk. The blonde professor sits at her computer, her eyes behind her glasses reading something on the laptop's screen. Knowing she isn't paying attention, she fixes her dress. She purposely picked out a short maroon piece with black tights and moderate black pumps that give her legs that extra bit of attention, not to mention the added bounce to her ass. She has a coat but she won't dare put that on until she leaves the building, for the dress she wears has a gracious swooping neckline that with the right bra she's wearing now, presents the swells of her breasts like a showcase. Santana definitely approved of it this morning, nearly putting her hand in her bowl of cereal instead of her spoon.

Taking a piece of notebook paper she hadn't written on yet, Rachel quickly writes: _I think she looks better with her glasses on._

She passes it to Santana, who readily snatches it and after a pause, snickers and writes back: _Everything about her turns you on, doesn't it?_

Retrieving the note, Rachel smiles triumphantly as Santana buys into the ploy. With just the perfect note, she folds it up and sets it beneath her notebook for after class.

The bell rings finally and Rachel stands up. Collecting her work, she winks at Santana before passing by and moving to Ms. Fabray's desk. The rest of the class files out, Santana the last so to admire Rachel's legs with a thought along the lines of crudely complimenting her for how short she is, she has legs for miles.

"Ms. Fabray?" Rachel asks, her voice taking a more innocent lilt.

Ms. Fabray looks up. Her eyes only stray on Rachel's cleavage for a fraction of second before she meets her eyes, but it counts as a small victory. "Yes?"

"I was just curious as to when the deadline is exactly for the next report?" On cue, she _accidentally_ drops her notebook. Loose papers scatter with a fluttering noise and Rachel groans under her breath as she stoops to collect them all.

A moment later and Ms. Fabray is kneeling beside her, helping gather the pages and handing them over. Rachel gives her a small smile of appreciation, and once all the pages are stacked in her notebook messily, she stands, leaning forward slightly so that with Ms. Fabray only a couple inches taller has a clear sight down the front of Rachel's dress at the provided angel. Which she most certainly falls victim to staring.

"It's, uhm, next Monday," Ms. Fabray stutters, lifting a hand to catch a stray lock and tuck it behind her ear like a nervous habit. She flashes a smile, tearing her eyes away to brown instead, and regains her composure. "I don't suspect anything less than perfect, Rachel."

"Thank you, Ms. Fabray," the brunette accepts, her chest fluttering as she hears her name on the professor's lips, "I won't disappoint you."

"I don't doubt it," Ms. Fabray says, and rather involuntarily, because the moment after she practically purrs the reply, her eyes widen. She turns abruptly, taking a breath through parted lips that is near inaudible, smoothes out her pencil skirt, and then walks around her desk. She gives another tight-lipped smile before sitting and resuming her typing at her laptop, though the rhythm sounds more like she's just tapping keys to appear preoccupied.

With another triumphant smirk, Rachel begins to walk away, and again, she can feel eyes on her back, or rather, a little south. Taking the folded note from earlier between her and Santana, she pretends to drop it unknowingly and leaves the room.

* * *

Friday arrives. It was laundry day for Santana and Rachel, who share the same dorm room, so that meant there wasn't a lot left to wear. Santana decided to come to her classes in sweats, hair up in a bun, while Rachel wears something similar to what she used to sport back in Lima; a plain cream-colored wool dress tucked into a navy, ruffled skirt and comfortable shoes. She has half her hair pulled back in a small ponytail, the rest spilling over her shoulders.

Seating themselves, Ms. Fabray only stands to tell class that they have the rest of their time to finish whatever late assignments they might have before their next report Monday, to which most of the students promptly rush to complete. Santana groans wearily, grabs sunglasses from her bag, slouches in her seat, and attempts to sleep. Rachel only lays out her _finished_ work to pretend she has something to do. Taking her pen, she reads a little over her perfect report, the cap slowly running along her bottom lip. She looks up to Ms. Fabray's desk, where the blonde sits writing. It doesn't take very long before Rachel sees hazel eyes dart up behind those librarian glasses and see chocolate staring back at her suggestively, the pen cap still running along her lip. It's Ms. Fabray's turn to squirm slightly in her chair and go back to writing.

Timing now, Rachel continues to draw the pen across her mouth, still watching her professor until she looks up again. It's not very long intervals either. Now that she knows Ms. Fabray is actively glancing at her, being caught for the second time so that her cheeks redden, Rachel smirks and looks down at her papers. She counts in her head the small interval until Ms. Fabray is supposed to look up again, and when she feels eyes on her face, she casually parts her lips to let her tongue peek out and slide just barely along the cap. She does this as though she is thinking, and after a few moments, lets her eyes drift up.

Ms. Fabray casts her gaze away, clearing her throat gently as she turns to her laptop, seemingly something there to distract her. With full knowledge she has Ms. Fabray's attention at her mercy, Rachel chuckles to herself and goes back to reading her report. For the remainder of the class, she doesn't look back up once. She only toys with the cap of her pen with her tongue, sometimes pulling it into her mouth to gnaw at, then move over with her tongue again languidly. Sometime during her reading, the words started to blur and then her page went completely blank in what could only be the start of daydream. It matures into something along the lines of Ms. Fabray storming right up to Rachel in her seat and straddling her, grabbing at her sweater to rip off. It proceeds to both of them being naked, Ms. Fabray riding Rachel's fingers to climax, and as her head falls forward, Rachel lifts her coated fingers to lick at her teacher's juices succulently, moaning at the taste.

The bell ringing is almost startling and Rachel pulls the cap from her mouth where her tongue had been running along it like she was imagining she was doing to her hot fingers. Santana lurches up in her seat with a snort after snoring the last hour in a deep sleep. Taking the pen cap to run just once more across her top lip sensually, Rachel once again directs her eyes to Ms. Fabray. What she finds is her super-model teacher practically gaping and flushed only to turn away, her bangs falling across her face like a curtain.

"Did I miss anything?" Santana says groggily, rubbing her eyes after taking off her sunglasses.

Rachel's only response is dragging a finger over her wet bottom lip and then stacking her things to sort into her messenger bag. She hears Santana chuckle behind her and smiles herself.

Approaching the front slowly with Santana chatting beside her, it's no surprise when Ms. Fabray calls for her. Looking from Santana to the blonde as she rounds her desk to lean back against it, like she did the first day, Rachel says her goodbyes with Santana and steps up to speak with her professor.

Ms. Fabray waits for the rest of the students to leave the classroom, instructing the last to shut the door. Rachel keeps from smirking at what the subtext could mean and faces Ms. Fabray and her almost stern appearance. It was a poor mask to hide what Rachel had seen earlier, which wasn't anything but desire.

"Rachel, I found," and the pale-skinned professor reaches behind her to pick up a folded piece of paper and holds it before her, "this the other day. You dropped it on your way out."

"Oh?" Rachel breathes, appearing to look a little surprised and lost. "What does it say?"

Ms. Fabray lifts an eyebrow. She knows Rachel knows and is only playing dumb. She throws the note behind her and lets her hand fall back beside her as she still leans back on her thighs against the desk.

"Do I distract you, Rachel?" Ms. Fabray asks lowly. When there's not a reply, she leans forward a little, the front of blouse once again falling open enough for Rachel to glance at cleavage. Yes, she knew their little game. Rachel started it after all and for some odd reason, this single student hasn't been able to leave her rather filthy thoughts. "If I distract you, Rachel, you need to… _let me know_."

Rachel allows her eyes to move from that capturing hazel to purposefully look down Ms. Fabray's shirt, and then back up again. Nodding slowly, she whispers, "Yes, you are distracting. _Very_… distracting."

"What are we going to do about it, then?" Ms. Fabray draws out, keeping steady eye contact, settling back again from leaning forward.

A bottom lip disappears again behind teeth. What Rachel does next is out of pure courage and a dash of lust, though she can't find a reason why she would rejected. Taking the last step forward and leaning over Ms. Fabray's form, she reaches up to let her hand ghost across an angular jaw, fingers moving up to feel along the side of glasses. Maybe she's a bit surprised by Rachel's forwardness or maybe she wants to see what she's doing— or maybe both— but Ms. Fabray remains still, watching Rachel as she removes the item from her nose. Leaning even closer, Rachel sets the glasses on the desk, and then supporting herself on the edge, aside the blonde's hand, she presses her lips, just barely, precariously, against her teacher's pink ones.

A hand lifts from the desk to cautiously snake around Rachel's waist, coming to rest on the lowest part of her back that wasn't just quite her ass yet. A gentle urge has her moving even closer, spreading her legs so that Ms. Fabray's are between hers and she's practically straddling her in their leaning position against the heavy desk. Taking the strap of her bag Rachel drops it to the floor, and with her freed hand reaches up to cup the corner of the blonde's jaw, the tips of her fingers threading in soft, short hair. Another hand rises to join the one already on Rachel's back, pressing her lower body firmer against the one she's basically straddling, encouraging a want that becomes more and more apparent at the apex of Rachel's legs. Tilting her head to deepen the kiss, Ms. Fabray is the one to part her mouth and slick her tongue across Rachel's. Before there's even a response to the treatment, Ms. Fabray moves her head forward so that her teeth can catch that bottom lip and suckle it into her mouth. Rachel moans, the first moan to pass between them, as she feels blunt teeth gnaw in what can only be from watching what progressed between Rachel and her pen cap.

"The door," Rachel gasps out as soon as Ms. Fabray releases her swollen lip. She pants, the breath literally stolen from her lungs, and abruptly, she's being guided to stand and Ms. Fabray briskly makes for the door. Pulling the blind down over the little window, locking the knob with an echoing click, and then flicking the lights so that they're cast in a dim dark, the only light from the high windows, Ms. Fabray turns. Rachel's smirking from the hungry glare she's receiving and her hands lift to greet those hips she's wanted to grip since those green-golden flecked eyes landed on her. This time, she's the one being pushed back against the desk. A hand finds her side, a palm grazing her breast, and she's pulled tight against her teacher, their heads tilting again as their kisses become more heated. Ms. Fabray's tongue finds its way back to her mouth, gliding along lips and battling the tongue it's met with. When teeth nick Rachel's bottom lip again, she gasps.

"Ms. Fabray," Rachel murmurs teasingly, a smile creeping between their mouths.

"Call me Quinn," Ms. Fabray instructs before passing Rachel's jaw with a nip and nudging her head up to lick at a pulse point.

"_Quinn,_" Rachel moans, eyes squeezing shut as teeth move across beating skin to capture an earlobe, lancing pleasure down to her chest. Rachel's hands still hold Quinn's hips, her fingertips digging through the material of her skirt, and suddenly wanting to feel skin, they move around to the side where she finds a small zipper. Pulling down so hard it sounds like it tears doesn't disrupt Quinn as her tongue traces the shell of Rachel's ear.

"I should punish you, you know," she husks, her breath hot as it wafts into Rachel's hair and making her scalp tingle. Rachel only whimpers, just barely, searching for more of Quinn's seductive voice to send trembles through her body and make her legs weak. "You've been distracting as well, Rachel." She chuckles, "And your little stint with the pen? Better _hope_ that mouth is as talented as you make it out to be."

A gasp escapes instead of another whimper as Quinn hikes Rachel's legs up and seats her on the edge of the desk, stepping closer in the space she created. Fueled by Quinn's raspy voice in her ear, her warm breath, and the hands sliding up her own skirt, Rachel hooks her thumbs in the waistband of the unzipped skirt and jerks them down. Once they clear those curvaceous hips, it slips down the rest of the way, Quinn's only recognition being her stepping out of it and kicking it away with her black heels. With the hands beneath Rachel's skirt, she finds the elastic band of her underwear, and with one last harsh nip to just below her ear, Quinn pulls them back and moves out of the way so that they come completely off. She steps forward again, her free hand gliding back beneath the skirt Rachel still wears while her little prize she just took off is set behind them on the desk, next to the note and glasses. Rachel grabs at Quinn's neck, pulling her back to her mouth. Quinn wraps her arm around the smaller girl's neck, her hand becoming lost in the thick chestnut hair as she grabs a fistful, earning a whimper of pain that comes out as pleasure. The hand up Rachel's skirt moves between them, slender fingers slipping through wet heat she's wanted to experience since she first set on eyes on the attractive student, knowing what she feels and hears is caused by her and only by her. Rachel throws her head forward when tight circles start hard on her clit. She buries herself in the blonde's neck, her mouth open to let out the smallest of whines escape in response to those fingers treating her. Even sitting, she tries to rock her hips forward, the tightening knot in her stomach building fast and all at the hands of her teacher. She wants this to last as long as possible but she can't stand not having Quinn's fingers in her any longer. This is no longer about Santana and grade. She can go fuck herself for all Rachel cares. This is about being with the hottest woman alive and knowing that right now, she's all hers, willing to be taken and fucked senseless, even if it's as dirty and scandalous as it seems; it just makes it all the sexier.

Quinn must understand then just how bad by the sounds and rocking hips Rachel wants her, and with a devious chuckle that sends a chill down the brunette's spine despite how heated the two of them are becoming, her teacher slides her fingers down as she pulls the small body closer, almost off the desk. Without warning, she sinks two fingers in to the knuckle and Rachel throws her head back, crying out. Quinn watches, entranced, as she begins a slow, torturous pace that cause Rachel's eyes to clench shut, her mouth to part and let small pants escape that become deeper as her tempo picks up. Pulling Rachel forward by the fist still in her hair, Quinn bites down on her shoulder only to soothe it with her tongue as she thrusts into Rachel.

"Oh, _God…_ Quinn," Rachel strangles out, her nails dragging down pale shoulders that become more and more exposed with the collar of Quinn's shirt being pulled apart. The buttons at the front strain before popping open. She hisses when she feels the sting of breaking skin yet she knows the welts that line her shoulder blades will make her proud later. She breathes up Rachel's neck, tilting Rachel's head down so that she can kiss at full lips and swallow her moans before they become too loud. She can feel Rachel's walls tighten, her own doing the same to the response of her fingers, the legs now wrapped around her waist constricting, and she pumps as deep and hard as she can, her hand dripping with Rachel's arousal. Quite suddenly, Rachel rears back.

"_Ms. Fabray!_" she screams out, nails digging into hunched shoulders, legs twitching, fingers trapped in suspense of climax. Her mind draws blank and even though she is panting, she doesn't feel like she's getting enough air.

Watching in awe of the spectacle before her, Quinn waits until she can move her fingers again before creating a slow pace, stroking Rachel down from her high. Removing her hand from hair she places it on the desk and leans against it so that when Rachel looks down with her pupils blown, her mouth swollen, her breathing heavy, she can kiss her, easy and tender.

"B+," Rachel chokes out as soon as she can take a breath. She breaks into a smile when she sees the skeptical look on Quinn's face. "You didn't take off your shirt."

"That sounds like work," Quinn replies throatily, ducking to place a kiss on a mark that appeared sometime. "And if I'm correct, _students_ are the ones who do work for teachers."

"What if," Rachel starts, her hands sliding from beneath Quinn's shirt on her shoulders to trace down the opening of the buttons that have already popped, "I give you some _very_ good work… and you give the grade to my friend… for the semester?"

This time, Quinn lifts a brow and chuckles. "All this work and for someone else's benefit?"

"Well, if _I'm_ correct," Rachel mimics, smirking against lips that near her own, "My professor already told me I have _amazing_ work, which could only produce a perfect grade, but if it isn't… then I don't see a problem in doing some extra credit."

A groan sounds deep in Quinn's throat at the thought of another encounter like this, the need burning in the pit of her stomach churning to become more announced. Knowing the deal's already on without really a vocal response, Rachel shimmies off the desk. She turns around, Quinn giving her no space but rather pressing against her back with hands settling on her waist, Rachel bends teasingly to grab Quinn's laptop and toss it onto the chair before sweeping the rest of her things right off the desk. As everything clatters to the floor, papers scattering, a pair of damp panties flying to land with the rest of their clothes, Rachel spins around, seizes Quinn by the neck, and pulls her down for a kiss. She turns them as they kiss, pushing back against the blonde until she's forced to crawl backwards up onto the cleared desk, Rachel following right after, their lips never parting. Propped on her hands as Quinn lies down, Rachel breaks away with the disappointed gasp Quinn was going to give. Even so, she settles between Quinn's legs on her knees and reaches forward to begin her own torture of casually unbuttoning the rest of the shirt.

"Fuck, Rachel," Quinn snips after a few seconds. She grabs a hand to pull the brunette back up to her mouth, but instead of obeying, Rachel moves to her neck, biting hard on her pulse point. Quinn's breath hitches, and in the span of time, Rachel has finished with the buttons, the tips of her fingers skittering back up a smooth stomach, muscles flexing in their wake. Pulling the sleeves down, Quinn rises up only to have her shirt thrown behind her. Rachel quickly finds the front-clasp of her very sexy and rather fantasy teacher-esque bra, pops it open with practice, cause after all she has a couple of her own, and groans at the sight before her. Before she can stop herself, she's lowering to capture a hard pink nipple, nipping with her teeth and massaging over it with her tongue. Quinn groans above her, her hands moving into Rachel's hair, pulling and twisting just as her student is doing. She switches to her other breast, caressing the previous with her hand, and gives the same attention, when knees close around her waist and she remembers what exactly the main point of her… presentation is. Releasing the second nipple with a pop from her red lips, Quinn watches, her hands following, as Rachel descends slowly, leaving a trail with her tongue and landmark-ing her path with hickies bruising sensitive hip bones. Reaching the obstacle of underwear, Rachel slides her fingers beneath them, teasingly swiping across just the top of Quinn's slit, before pulling the underwear down her smooth legs. Once there's nothing between her and her teacher, Rachel casts a mischievous glance at Quinn's dark hazel, the smell of arousal pushing her to slide her hands around strong hips. Her fingers press into tingling hickies as she lowers her mouth. Her tongue darts out to lick a stripe through sweet wetness, resulting in a pain that blossoms along her scalp from her hair being pulled suddenly. She glides over a particular bundle of nerves, feeling Quinn's thighs attempt to press around her head if not for her hands holding them apart, feeling muscles clench beneath her palms. A tongue around her Quinn's clit, then strokes down her heat again. She begins maneuvering her tongue in what seems to be a random fashion that produces low, long moans, when Quinn realizes it's Rachel's name she is spelling, once… twice… three times. To punctuate her name, Rachel finally moves down to a soaking entrance and dips in. She releases a thigh and her fingers soon find their way, three to be exact, in place of her tongue. Quinn gasps, a hand slapping down against the desk and then clutching the edge while the other still holds Rachel's hair like reigns. Rachel can hear breathing elevate and gazes up as the blonde's chest heaves. Her fingers thrust faster, hitting harder, sinking deeper. Her teeth scrape against Quinn's clit. She places open mouthed, licking kisses to the insides of her teacher's thighs, up and then down again, tasting the slight sheen of sweat that has transpired between the pair of them. She licks through the folds once more, savoring the distinct taste, and knowing just how close Quinn is to the edge, Rachel smiles, and then bites down just enough to release her, breathing warm through her nose to wash over creamy, hot skin.

A scream tears from Quinn's throat breathlessly, her fingers pulling hard on Rachel's hair, her free thigh pushing down on a tanned shoulder in a spasm. It's then that Rachel realizes the heels digging through her sweater she still wears, pushing into her lower back where there's sure to be bruises later. She raises herself up, fluttering her fingers softly inside Quinn until she can actually remove them, and experiences Quinn's beautiful face, with her furrowed brows and wet lips panting, until it melts into post-sex bliss. When she can open her eyes, they immediately land on Rachel and her suggestive smirk. Taking her hand from her hair again, Quinn pulls Rachel close, kissing her fully and moaning weakly at the taste of herself on her lips and tongue. Rachel lies beside the pale body, and after a minute of allowing Quinn to catch her breath, she sits up to remove her sweater, then lies back down to pull the other woman close, the skin of their stomachs meeting with a shared moan of satisfaction.

"That was definitely an A," Quinn whispers after several minutes of calming down. She looks down at the brunette resting on her arm, "Though I suspect you can make another one just as easily."

"Are you saying I have homework, Ms. Fabray?" Rachel teases, her hand resting on Quinn's side lifting to trail her fingertips up and down, skimming her bare breast and raising goosebumps.

Quinn hums instead of a chuckle. She closes her eyes yet still manages to pique a brow momentarily. "You do now. As far as I'm concerned, you have homework every day from now on… as aforementioned punishment."

"Punishment for absently _playing_ with a pen?" Rachel asks with faux astonishment, licking her lips.

"For distracting me since I first saw you," Quinn provides.

A few minutes pass, and then, "What about the weekends? Do I have homework then?"

"Homework that will take _all_ day long," Quinn purrs, the hand of the arm beneath Rachel's head curling up to play with long silky hair, tugging lightly at the ends.

"You know me," Rachel says, closing her eyes as well. "I'll do all my homework and _good_."

* * *

_End of 2__nd__ semester_

* * *

"God damn, Rache… _I have 100% A_!" Santana exclaims, nearly spitting out her coffee but burning her throat in the process of swallowing it to report this.

Kurt almost drops his if he didn't set it down right away. Both turn to look at Rachel.

Taking a nonchalant sip, Rachel looks past Kurt's gaping mouth to see a familiar blonde woman enter the coffee shop and immediately spot her. Rachel breaks into a smile as Quinn rounds the table of the year's graduated students, setting her briefcase on the floor beside a chair she pulls out beside the brunette. Once seated, she places a hand on the back of Rachel's chair and leans forward to kiss her earnestly before facing the even more shocked Santana and Kurt.

"Hi, I'm Quinn," she introduces. She smiles. "Ms. Fabray, as you both know me."

"Ho-ly _shit_," Santana enunciates, staring at the blonde sitting comfortably beside Rachel as she takes the said girl's coffee and takes a sip. A familiar smile breaks out like she's tasted the drink before.

Rachel turns to Santana. "I said I would get you an A." She turns back to Quinn to cup her cheek and kiss her again. Without looking at Santana or Kurt but staring into hazel, "I could care less about _my_ grades. I got me a teacher."

Quinn chuckles, then corrects, "I'm not your teacher anymore. I'm your _girlfriend_."

"Homework, my ass," Kurt scoffs, lifting his drink to take a generous swig.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I'm a bit late for the party but at least I still came around! Teacher/student Faberry week submission, the only one that really stood out to me. I thought about the Metro Train Pass but felt this was a better gift to all my fellow Faberrians. :-***

**-x**


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